Whatever we expected in 2010, it was certainly not this. Nick Clegg at the heart of government. Howard Jacobson winning the Man Booker Prize. A Pakistani bowler deliberately bowling a no-ball in a Test match at Lord’s. Ann Widdecombe dancing her way into the heart of the nation. An Icelandic volcano grounding planes at Heathrow and Gatwick. And a group of unknown Chilean miners becoming worldwide celebrities.

It was a year when the unimaginable suddenly became commonplace. We had thought we were a nation of pet lovers – and all the time we were harbouring a woman capable of dumping a cat in a wheelie bin. We had thought we were an orderly, peace-loving country – until protesting students covered a statue of Winston Churchill in graffiti.

Some things were unchanged. It was sadly predictable that more British soldiers would die in Afghanistan in the course of the year – the death toll passed 300 in June and continued to rise inexorably. The repatriation of their bodies, and the respectful crowds lining the streets of Wootton Bassett, became one of the recurring images of 2010. But who could have foreseen a gunman running amok in Cumbria, serenest of counties? Or Joanna Lumley going into bat for the Gurkhas and forcing the Government into an abrupt U-turn?

Even the weather, not normally a major talking point, confounded expectations. The boffins may insist that the planet is warming up, but if Britain is destined to become a tropical island, it is not going to happen any time soon.

The year has ended as it began, with the country blanketed in snow, schools closed, travel plans disrupted and hapless officials trying to explain why they have run out of grit/ploughs/shovels/credible excuses.

Britain’s reputation for competence took a battering. The halting of hundreds of flights in the spring because of a volcanic dust cloud from Iceland was just bad luck, albeit exacerbated by over-caution. But how to explain away the myriad TV images of snowbound passengers starved of basic information?

Just about the only high-profile event of 2010 that went to script was England’s ignominious exit from the World Cup in South Africa. Months of hype, journeymen players hailed as world-beaters, England flags aflutter, celebratory cans of lager stockpiled in readiness, then rank incompetence on the pitch, culminating in a 4-1 drubbing by Germany. Will we never learn?

The awarding of the 2018 and 2122 World Cups to Russia and Qatar, respectively, was not just a bad joke, beyond parody, but a slap in the face for English hubris.

At Westminster the sheer pace and scale of change in 2010 took everyone by surprise. Gordon Brown’s defenestration by the voters at the May general election had been widely predicted. The dour Scot had never had the common touch and, in a lacklustre campaign, shot himself in the foot so often it was painful to watch.

When a stray microphone caught the prime minister calling a mild-mannered Rotherham woman a bigot, forcing Mr Brown into a humiliating public apology, his goose was cooked.

In normal circumstances, the voters’ disenchantment with New Labour would have seen David Cameron in Downing Street with a sizeable majority. What few had foreseen was the revolutionary impact of the three televised leaders’ debates, the first of their kind in Britain. The debates may not have been scintillating, but they were watched by millions and, because of their tripartite format, dealt a body blow to traditional two-party politics.

Liberal Democrat leader Nick Clegg, basking in the unaccustomed limelight, seized his moment, came up with the best sound bites and was briefly so popular that a new word, Cleggmania, entered the political lexicon.

The bubble had burst by polling day, when the Lib Dems won fewer seats than in 2005, but Mr Clegg and his troops had done enough to deny the Conservatives an outright victory. The Coalition was born – cobbled together at a speed which, with hindsight, seems extraordinary.

Cynics said it was a marriage of convenience that would never last, and the cynics may yet be proved right, but one thing was obvious to the most casual observer of politics: that David Cameron and Nick Clegg were on such amicable terms that, after the vicious in-fighting between Tony Blair and Gordon Brown, it was like a breath of fresh air.

Voters liked what they saw and as ministers got down to business, making cutting the financial deficit their priority, gave the Coalition a fair wind. The impressive David Laws, briefly Chief Secretary to the Treasury, departed the scene early, after financial improprieties, but that apart, it was all smiles around the Cabinet table.

George Osborne as Chancellor revealed more steel than people had expected, William Hague proved a formidable Foreign Secretary, Kenneth Clarke enjoyed a new lease of life, and Vince Cable – until he developed foot-in-mouth syndrome in the run-up to Christmas – played the benevolent uncle to perfection.

Most impressive of all was David Cameron himself, who had sounded woolly during the election campaign, when his “Big Society” slogan had even Conservatives scratching their heads, but who now threw himself into coalition-building with an energy and a passion that left the doubters gasping for breath.

He had to ask his followers to swallow some bitter pills, typified by the scrapping of the Harrier jets. Britain’s much-vaunted defences suddenly felt threadbare. But his optimism carried the day. There was a new sense of purpose in Whitehall and, even if some Coalition reforms looked half-baked, they were better than the tired cynicism that had characterised the Brown years.

By late autumn, the honeymoon was over, and it was the Lib Dems taking most of the flak, after reneging on an election promise to oppose higher tuition fees. Student demonstrators marched on the capital and, for a while, it looked as if things might turn really ugly – a car carrying the Prince of Wales and Duchess of Cornwall was attacked by an angry mob.

Differences within the Coalition came simmering to the surface before Christmas. But as the year limped to an end, the ship of state, with its motley two-party crew, was still just about on course. If such coalitions become the norm, rather than the exception, 2010 really could prove to have been a revolutionary year.

If the experts failed to see the Coalition coming, they also failed to predict the winner of the Labour leadership contest. The cerebral David Miliband had looked a shoo-in to succeed Gordon Brown, but was pipped at the post by his more ruthless younger brother, the lisping assassin with the deceptive smile.

Ed Miliband, elected on the back of trade union votes, was predictably dubbed Red Ed by the tabloids, but after a faltering start, was soon giving Mr Cameron a run for his money at the Dispatch Box.

The fact that both men became 40 something fathers in the course of the year – unimaginable 20 years ago – underscored just how fast Britain is changing, with the younger, post-Beatles generation setting the agenda.

Across the Atlantic, the love affair between the American public and their President was turning sour so fast that it made depressing viewing. Whatever happened to the Barack Obama who had entered the White House in 2009 on a tidal wave of optimism and good will?

The President got his health reforms through, just, but after that, seemed to be paralysed by unfolding events, whether it was the massive oil spillage in the Gulf of Mexico or the continuing stalemate in Afghanistan. And he paid the price.

Not only did the resurgent Republican party make big gains in the mid-term elections in November, but the newly formed Tea Party, which would normally have been dismissed as an irrelevance, moved from the lunatic fringe to the mainstream of American politics.

If Obama was floundering, he was not alone. Silvio Berlusconi, the gaffe-prone Italian prime minister, only narrowly escaped a vote of no confidence in the Italian parliament. In Australia, the saintly Kevin Rudd was deposed by Julia Gillard, a feisty Welsh-born redhead. Greece and Ireland had to be bailed out by the EU, after scenes of near-anarchy on the streets. And the Chinese leadership attracted worldwide opprobrium for its ham-fisted response to the awarding of the Nobel Peace Prize to the jailed dissident, Liu Xiaobo.

One of the few world leaders whose stock rose during the year was the Pope, whose visit to Britain in September confounded the cynics, drew appreciative crowds and serenely withstood rent-a-mob protests, letters to the Guardian and tweets from Stephen Fry.

If whistle-blower Julian Assange of WikiLeaks was the year’s most controversial figure, revered and hated in equal measure, the most harrowing images of 2010 were provided by the Haitian earthquake in January and the Pakistani floods in July, which left millions homeless. The slaughter of Christians in Baghdad, in a series of brutal attacks, was equally shocking. But news editors were not starved of more upbeat stories.

For sheer human drama, sustained over 10 weeks and reaching a heart-stopping climax on live television, the rescue of 33 Chilean miners, trapped underground after an explosion, was the news event of the year. An estimated billion viewers were glued to their TV sets as the men emerged from their ordeal on October 13.

The following month, Paul and Rachel Chandler, the British couple held by Somali pirates for more than a year, also achieved their freedom. Good news was becoming contagious. Two days after that, Prince William and Kate Middleton announced their engagement, sparking a media frenzy.

Cheesy engagement photos were flanked by family trees and articles querying the desirability of the daughter of an air hostess marrying into the Royal Family. The snobs had a field day. So did the fashion correspondents. But it was noticeable how quickly the frenzy abated. People rejoiced for the happy couple, but not too many went overboard at the prospect of a Royal Wedding. Last week, Zara Phillips and rugby star Mike Tindall announced their engagement – again with much cheer.

Audiences also began the autumn cheering contestants on reality TV shows such as The X Factor and Strictly Come Dancing, which continued to command high ratings, long after they should logically have passed their sell-by date.

X Factor judge Cheryl Cole carried all before her and, if Ann Widdecombe on Strictly had to be carried by a perspiring Anton du Beke, who looked as if he might get a hernia at any minute, her efforts were so galumphingly memorable that viewers clamoured for more. Nothing she did as a minister at the Home Office will linger in the memory as long as the image of her being dragged across the dance floor like a sack of King Edwards.

Others to make fools of themselves in 2010 included ex-Lib Dem MP Lembit Opik, cheerfully enduring bush tucker trials on I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here!, Lady Gaga, wearing a dress made of raw meat, and Tiger Woods, whose televised apology for sexual transgressions was so wooden and contrived it only hastened his multi-million dollar divorce.

Hard graft is still rewarded in Britain – occasionally. The novelist Howard Jacobson won the 2010 Man Booker Prize in his late sixties, after years of being neglected. The evergreen Sir Alex Ferguson entered his 25th year as manager of Manchester United, indefatigable. But too many of the others making headlines – like Tony Blair, spicing up his memoir with gratuitous sexual references – seemed to do so for depressingly shallow reasons.

Dearly departed in 2010

J D Salinger, reclusive author of Catcher in the Rye.Michael Foot, former leader of the Labour Party. Actor Tony Curtis, who starred with Jack Lemmon and Marilyn Monroe in Some Like It Hot. Novelist Dame Beryl Bainbridge, who was shortlisted five times for the Booker Prize, but never won it.Bill McLaren, the Voice of Rugby, whose Scottish brogue entered broadcasting folklore. Agony aunt Claire Rayner, who made a deathbed plea to David Cameron to look after the NHS.Alexander McQueen, fashion designer, who was found hanged at his London home in February.Sir Cyril Smith, larger-than-life Liberal MP for Rochdale. Master of slapstick Sir Norman Wisdom, who had an improbable cult following in Albania. American rock legend Captain Beefheart. BBC reporter Brian Hanrahan, best remembered for his dispatches from the Falklands. Jockey turned bestselling novelist Dick Francis, whose horse Devon Loch dramatically collapsed just before the winning-post at the 1956 Grand National. Actors Corin Redgrave and his sister Lynne Redgrave. Dame Joan Sutherland, Australian opera singer who earned the nickname La Stupenda.Dennis Hopper, American actor, who starred opposite Jack Nicholson in Easy Rider. British aid worker Linda Norgrove, who was killed in Afghanistan. Boxing commentator Harry Carpenter, whose sparring with Frank Bruno became required viewing.Claude Chabrol, French film director, best remembered for Le Boucher.Alex Higgins, flawed genius of snooker.Egon Ronay, the Hungarian-born restaurateur who battled to educate English taste buds. Actress Jean Simmons, who starred opposite Laurence Olivier in Hamlet.Malcolm McLaren, manager of the Sex Pistols. England cricket legend Sir Alec Bedser, who joked that he was the first bowler to be knighted since Francis Drake.Paul the Octopus, the unlikely hero of the World Cup, who correctly predicted match scores.

The lexicon of 2010

Vuvuzela: A plastic horn, as heard ad infinitum in the World Cup in South Africa. It was meant to encapsulate the joy of football, but became even more tedious than the England team.Sext: A text message with sexually explicit content. Particularly favoured by sportsmen such as Ashley Cole, Tiger Woods and Shane Warne.Cleggmania: A fetishistic attachment that afflicts voters in the spring and leaves them with a guilty hangover six months later.Simples: A slang variant on “simple”, originally used by Aleksandr the Meerkat in the TV commercials for the website www.comparethemarket.comTweetheart: A user of the Twitter website with an army of admiring followers. The best-known tweetheart is Stephen Fry.Kettling: A police tactic for containing demonstrators that makes the demonstrators even angrier.Broken society: David Cameron’s catchphrase for the Britain he inherited from Gordon Brown. It is now officially mended.Fauxmance: A fictitious romance between two celebrities who have not so much as kissed or held hands, but are desperate to revive their flagging careers.Hacktivist: An adherent of WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange who hacks into the websites of major institutions to disrupt them.Bigotgate: Political shorthand for the blunder that derailed the Labour campaign in the general election – when a microphone caught Gordon Brown referring to disillusioned Labour supporter Gillian Duffy as a “bigot”.Chillax: An uber-cool hybrid of “chill out” and “relax”. Useful for those doing both at the same time, irritating for everyone else.Toxic debt: A form of debt that is even nastier than bog-standard debt. Probably run up in a fit of mad optimism by Greece, Ireland or the Royal Bank of Scotland.Defriend: A term for dropping a “friend” on a social networking website such as Facebook.